Story Time with Grandpa

A few months ago I blogged about my trip up north where I learned so much about my father's side of the family. It was through that experience that I realized how much of me is made up of so many different people. It was reassuring in a way, like even in the midst of navigating through this world, some of it was prepared for me. As if, perhaps, I didn't have as much choice in who I am as I thought I did.

About a month ago I traveled north again, except this time it was to visit my mom's side of the family. Both of my mom's parents are still alive. They are in their late 80's and have story after story that testifies to the fact that they have truly lived!

One afternoon while we were visiting the ladies went to the store, but frankly I hate grocery shopping, so I stayed behind with grandpa. We sat out on the back patio and story time commenced. I asked him what he liked to think about when he sat out on the patio. He chuckled and said, "Mostly the good ole days; the days of being a cowboy and riding the land." He shared about his time of riding free in the wild west, about when he beat the world's best bull rider 3 years in a row, and about his time serving in the navy right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. His stories flowed off of his tongue, one after another as if it had just happened yesterday. The tears came too as if he was reliving each memory right in front of me and all I could do was sit and try to take it all in as quickly as he was reliving it.

It came to the end of our conversation and I asked him one last question, "Grandpa, do you regret anything?" Without hesitation but with tears flowing, he simply said, "Not a one thing. I've worked hard, loved deeply, and lived fully." Later that night as I thought about our conversation, I realized why he didn't regret anything. In all of his stories, good or bad, these few things were evident:

1) He was sure of who God made him to be.

2) He loved working hard.

3) He was not afraid to let others see him; to truly know him.

4) He loved knowing others.

5) He embraced love.

6) He wasn't afraid.

7) He truly LIVED!

 

I went out on the patio the next morning and sat in his chair and I imagined myself in my late 80's. As it is with anyone, I sat there hoping and praying, making it a goal in my heart that I would live these next 50 years like my grandpa. As I thought about it, 50 years doesn't sound like a lot anymore. It will come and go so quickly, just as my grandpa felt like his stories were from yesterday.  And the urgency began to swell within me.

 

It's time to live!